Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III

by Takemoto, D. J.

  Leo, on his part, still seemed to be rooted to the floor, dumb struck. After fifteen seconds, he managed to blurt out a single word, “Drink?”

  “Yes, thanks; what’s the key for?” Roxanne took the drink from Leo, careful not to touch him or spill the drink on her black leather-gloved hands. She walked around the room, examining for vids, drones, false walls, and especially safes. She needed to get access to Leo’s famous safe. Roxanne had been briefed on its location.

  According to Dorian, it was on a far wall next to the bed in the back, unfortunately in his bedroom. The location was not optimal. She might have to improvise. If necessary she’d sting him with garble juice and ketamine, using the tiny device she carried in the side of her boot. But she hated to do that because she only had two, and you never knew when they’d come in handy for her future escape.

  “Key,” was all Leo managed to say. He was still in grad student geek mode; back when he was a student, moping around behind her, admiring her from a distance, but painfully monosyllabic.

  “Yes, it’s a key. I can see that, Leo. But, what does it open? Would you like to show me something?” Leo looked blankly at the hand holding the key and jumped slightly, like he’d been given a shot of CEO motivational medication, something he often used before a public speaking engagement.

  “Oh yes, show you, I can do that.” Leo handed Roxanne the key and pointed to his bedroom door.

  “So, you don’t waste any time. Same old Leo, I can see. You’re very clever, Leo; trying to get me into your sack by offering me some magical key. Well, I don’t think so. Rose goes, I stay. But, what happens when I stay here with you, and for how long, depends on if you can be a good boy.” Roxanne handed the key back to Leo, and looked directly into his eyes, lowered her sunglasses just enough for him to get a peek, and then she re-covered her eyes.

  Leo fainted.

  And Max fainted; but not at the same time or place.

  He had just finished his last turn around the track, while decelerating to slow enough for a safe drive back into the van. Of course he had a special van commissioned to transport his baby to and from the track. No way would he drive it in Hong Kong, on normal up top streets. It would get pulverized on the first trip, or the wheels would melt in the heat.

  Max did manage to get as far as the ramp to the van; then everything went black for about ten seconds. “I wonder if it was the heat.” Max mumbled to himself when he came to. The track was, after all, up top, and even though it was at night, it was not protected from the global warming version of Hong Kong. Max was used to a more controlled environment in the upper management zone tunnels.

  “I’ve got to have this track covered and temperature controlled.” Max commed his assistant to check the costs, drove onto the ramp, and into the temperature-controlled van, and walked back to his waiting and cool limo.

  “Where to, sir?” his driver asked. “Take me to my bank. And, next time keep the champagne cooler.” Max complained all the way to his bank. He was feeling hot and dizzy.

  On the way, he set up the order to have the track covered and temperature controlled, and then he sent out the initial IPO for his new Ferrari track options, after checking that the Triad got their cut. Once at the bank’s underground parking facility, he exited the limo into the enviro-tunnel, and rode the robo-tram to the vault building of the Hong Kong International Managers Bank. He was scanned, DNA typed, and buzzed into the lobby.

  “Good evening, sir. I hope you have not been outside. You look hot; can I get you a cool drink? Would you like to visit your vault today?” A bot-receptionist asked, while keying in Max’s personal data.

  “Yes, ice water, and I’ll need access to my major vaults, and a private room,” Max replied.

  “Of course, sir,” the robot replied. The door buzzed open and Max stepped inside, where another robot handed him a glass of ice water and directed him to the vault.

  Max needed access to his supply of gold vouchers for the Triad deal. He hated to part with any of his wealth but if he wanted Roxanne Smoot dead, it would cost him. It would cost him big time. Max knew that going into the deal.

  “I never thought it would be so expensive. She’s just a stupid rig-ryder, for crap sake.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir. Was that a request or do you wish to partake in polite conversation?” The robot asked Max politely, in that high-pitched halting voice, borrowed from the ones used in Tokyo subways.

  Max had forgotten about the robot receptionist; he’d been talking to himself.

  “No, no conversation. Just get me the vault access to my three major safe boxes and a private room, if you please.”

  “Thank you, and have a nice day,” the bot replied, and punched in the door release code to a vault containing a wall of safe boxes.

  Max hurried inside the vault, found one particular safe box in the far cubicle, had his retinas scanned to open the vault, and then he retrieved the small metal box. He took it into the room designated by the robot, shut the door, and opened his box with the gold key he always carried around his neck. He took the gold vouchers. He was also supposed to take those stock receipts but his greed took over. He just could not see handing over half his brand new race track stocks to the Triad just to get rid of Roxanne Smoot.

  And besides, he rationalized, it was a capital offense to give stocks to non-managerials; it was punishable by a life freeze. The WME did not want to upset the fragile social order, and Max did not want to risk it. At least that’s what he told himself, although he’d done too many capitals to count. Legals always bent the rules. He left the stock receipts inside his safe box, shut it, and replaced it into the vault wall, holding the door until the green light flashed the secure re-lock signal.

  Max walked from the vault and past the robot receptionist, who said some polite form of have a nice day. Once back inside his limo with the security shields up, he placed a com to his hired killer, sent the vouchers on to the Hong Kong Triad business office via digi-express, and the deal was completed. He told them he would transfer the stocks to the Triad business office when the Hang Seng opened on Monday. By the time they found out he wasn’t giving them the stocks, he hoped Roxanne would already be dead.

  Max knew he’d have to placate the Triad when they found out about the stock no go, but maybe he’d just throw in a car or two from his collection. He didn’t consider their reaction to his breach of contract. They were just mafia, not management class. And Max was just too elated all the way back to his penthouse, because by tomorrow night Roxanne Smoot would be dead; if he could get her away from Leo and out of the Opus.

  And back at the Opus, Roxanne carried a limp Leo to the couch, placed his head on a pillow, kissed him gently on the forehead, and shot him with a ketamine/garble-juice dart. When she was sure Leo was out cold, she retrieved the safe key from his pale little hand.

  Roxanne rose from the sofa and walked quietly to the bedroom, checking to be sure no housekeepers, human or robotic, were about. Just before she opened the door to the bedroom, she activated a drone scrambler, a recent invention of Dorian’s. He’d only handed them out to his security staff last week, and it was only by chance that one of the security team was in Hong Kong to hand hers off to Roxanne. It was how Michael Segev had scrambled the tranquilizer drones back at the entrance to the sewer city on Lanai. They’d be great for future missions, but no doubt would be declared illegal by the WME…as soon as they found out.

  Once activated the scrambler would send pulsed signals to the busy little nano-drones, with encrypted and boring codes, which would later be decoded and found to contain voiced readings from an old fashioned paper phone book listing the numbers of all individuals living in Scranton, Pennsylvania, in 1973. The original was currently in a glass case in Washington, DC, at the WME Ancient Hard Copy Historical Museum. The book started with Aabamamson, and ended with Zyzeckizchisinyskyn, which was pronounced Zuck. The vocal reading went on for 79 hours. No one asked Dorian who had been given the dreadful job of
reading that into code.

  After activating the drone scrambler, Roxanne entered the security access code to Leo’s inner rooms and stepped into his bedroom. Of course, the first thing she noticed was the bounty poster. His staff had forgotten to remove it from the ceiling over his bed. She examined it closely, shaking her head, not in disgust as it was actually a rather flattering shot. She just thought the whole thing was kind of sad. She would have taken it down, but she had a more critical mission, to steal Leo’s secret Stem-wads® formula.

  It was extortion, plain and simple. They had no use for facial regeneration at rebel headquarters, because most citizens were mutants or clones, many of whom could regenerate quite nicely on their own. The secret formula would go to the bubble-stop #5ers, to be used as exchange for whatever they wanted; most likely gold to keep the place running. Dorian just wanted to be sure that Chad, his daughter Gimlet, and all the Yac clan was taken care of. And Leo Songtain had very deep pockets.

  “Get the other key for me, Rose. Toss it to me.” Rose grabbed the key in her mouth and tossed it through the door where Roxanne caught it like a tossed ball, turned immediately, and pushed a false handle set into the left front leg of Leo’s humongous gold-plated, Louis XIII, Versailles bed. It was not a copy.

  “Okay, let’s see what we have here.” Roxanne pushed the now slightly ajar wall open, to reveal a normal old-fashioned locking device.

  “Dorian said once we unlock this vault we’ll have five minutes before the security alarm goes off. Too bad he couldn’t get the full access code to deactivate the alarm entirely. He could only delay the alarm, so we’ll have to move fast. Are you ready? Once I open it, get ready to get the hell out of here.” Rose nodded, punched the outer penthouse door to open, and stood ready to bolt out the door and away to freedom.

  “Wait until I attach the formula to your collar, then leave. Get the hell out of here. Do not, I repeat, do not come back for me. You know where to go. Ready?” Roxanne slid the gold key into the lock, turned it, opened the room safe, and stepped over the threshold. An alarm would sound in five minutes regardless, because she did not have the rest of Leo’s safety code. It was probably some verbal command, spoken and recognized only when Leo said it.

  “Okay, where would he put his secret formula? Oh shit, there’s so much crap here.” Roxanne scanned over the contents of the room, a safe vault about one hundred square feet in size, containing drawers, cabinets, even a closet filled with the hides of long-extinct species. She opened one drawer, found what looked to be over a thousand 5 carat FL diamonds, grabbed several handfuls, and stuffed them into the two pouches inside her boots. One minute had passed, and she still had no idea where to find that formula.

  “Roxanne, you have four minutes. Can I help?” Rose asked from the doorway to the hall.

  “No, just let me check all these drawers and files. It’s got to be here someplace. Dorian said it would be, based on one of his algorithms. Just let me keep looking.”

  “You don’t have time to check every drawer and file, Roxanne. Think. Where would Leo put his most precious possession, his secret formula?” Rose responded, checking her paw timer. They had three and a half more minutes before the alarm would go off, alerting Leo’s rather serious goon squad of security thugs.

  “Let me keep checking. No wait, what is this?” Roxanne stopped. She noticed a framed, glass-encased picture on the wall of the safe room. But it wasn’t a picture; it was real, a real t-shirt. It took Roxanne several seconds to recognize it, her lacrosse shirt from grad school; the one she’d left in her locker when she finished grad school, right before she disappeared for a year to do her rebel training at Donner Pass. Leo must have taken it.

  “We have three minutes, Roxanne. At least fire up your sonic. We may have to fight our way out. Should I stay behind and act normal confused canine or make a run for it?”

  “Quiet, I have to concentrate. Okay, it’s someplace hidden in this wall hanging, but where?”

  “Try the boobs, Roxanne; Leo has a thing for your boobs. We gotta go. We have two more minutes.” Rose was getting ready to bolt.

  “I found it!” Roxanne lifted a small sheet of yellowed parchment which had been inserted into the t-shirt, where her boobs would have been. Rose was always right.

  “Here, take it and get out of here. You know the plan.” Roxanne attached the parchment containing the Stem-wads® secret formula into the inside compartment of Rose’s collar, and both took off down the hall to the lift, in opposite directions. But the alarm went off…and Leo woke up…and Leo’s security team raced up the stairs.

  “They’re here, quick inside the lift, you get out of here. I’ll go back inside.” Roxanne whispered orders to Rose, who ran down the hallway in the opposite direction, into the lift.

  “See you on the other side. Get the formula to the safe house. Go!” Roxanne whispered to Rose as the lift door slid shut, with Rose inside.

  “Someone’s in the lift. Should we follow them? Maybe it’s Ms. Smoot, trying to escape,” the security guard shouted from the back stairs, one floor below. Roxanne made noise, laughed aloud so they would hear her in Leo’s bedroom.

  “No, she’s in Mr. Songtain’s inner rooms. She is secure. But, the alarm went off. You two, check to see if Mr. Songtain is unharmed. You, go downstairs to the lobby and intercept whoever is on that lift. Shoot on sight!” The guard turned to take the stairs down 12 floors, in leaps, fully charged sonic in hand.

  “Stop!” Leo poked his head out the door of his penthouse, signaling the head of security to cease and desist.

  “She’s here with me; I fainted. Everything’s alright.” Leo looked over at Roxanne who stood by the bar holding her Fueblaster in one hand and the key to his bedroom in the other.

  “Glad you made it back to earth, Leo. You dropped these keys. I checked out your bedroom, by the way; nice artwork on the ceiling. Good reproduction of me, but not a flattering pose. Next time I’ll just be keeping these dark glasses on.” Roxanne tried to sound nonchalant, but her heart was beating fast. She wondered how Leo woke up so quickly from ten milligrams of ketamine and garble juice, without sounding like a valley girl, and if she’d closed the door to his vault.

  “Sorry Mr. Songtain, sir; the alarm went off to your inner rooms. Is anything missing? Would you like us to check?”

  “No thank you, that won’t be necessary. She’s right here. I can see she’s not taken anything,” Leo responded. “And besides, she can have anything in the entire place; it’s all hers.” He looked embarrassed that he’d fainted, but mostly that she had seen the bounty poster tacked to his ceiling.

  “Sir, it appears that someone has taken the lift and the door security indicates that someone has left the building. Should we pursue?”

  “Yes, but keep a safe distance. If it is Rose, keep a watch on her. She won’t get far on her own. But, if she goes near the dog meat market she may end up being served at a banquet. Make sure she’s safe. And don’t apprehend her. She goes free. It was part of the deal,” Leo ordered, as he sat up slowly on the sofa, rubbing his head.

  “Yes sir.” The head of security nodded to the man next to him to get it done. He rode the second lift to the lobby, calling the guard house to have the sniff dogs ready. They’d have to spend the day running after Leo’s new pet.

  After the guards left, Leo stood on shaky feet, put his hand to his head, and walked over to Roxanne. He looked up at her, rubbed his eyes, and said, “What did you shoot me with; was it ketamine and garble juice?”

  “Yes exactly. Why are you talking to me? You should be out cold, Leo. Oh I see, you’ve taken the permanent antidote; very efficient of you.” Roxanne drank half the Fueblaster, wondering how she would get out of this mess. She sipped another bit of her drink, ran a hand threw her fire red hair for effect, and said, “I don’t trust you to keep your word, Leo. I knocked you out so Rose could get away. And now you’re sending your goons after him. I should never have trusted you to keep your word.” Roxanne
tried to add an indignant tone to sound more convincing.

  “No I will, really. I just want to be sure she’s unharmed. Rose will not be harmed. I will keep my part of the bargain. She gets to go free, once the guards report that someone has come for her, and you stay here with me. Really, Roxanne it won’t be so bad. You can have anything you want. I’ll see that Rose gets back to your father, Eldridge in bubble-stop #4, if no one comes for her; and I promise never to let pirates bother your rig again. I’ll even bring your rig here and build you a tunnel track system just offshore, in the harbor. We could ride together sometimes. You could teach me to be a rig-ryder.” Leo looked up into those dark sunglasses, and smiled his best hopeful smile, showing years of thwarted CEO “I want it-ness.” Roxanne changed the subject.

  “I’m hungry. Let me think about it. And, I let Rose go. You didn’t. Rose walks. If I hear your men hassle her or get in the way of her getting back home, I’m gone. Just like that time I disappeared after grad school. You got that?” Roxanne punched a finger into Leo’s forehead, which ran mid-chest to her.

  “Yes, of course, whatever you say. I just want you to be happy. Oh yes, dinner; what would you like for dinner?”

  Thus began the worst six day tight-rope walk of Roxanne’s life. But at least Rose was safe.

  After exiting the lift to the Opus lobby, Rose signaled via her collar bot-com so Dorian could disengage the security locks on the outer doors. The huge, bullet- and sonic-proof, solid metal and epon double doors slid open on their hydraulics, and Rose bolted, taking off to the left as Roxanne had instructed. She was talking to Dorian in Dober-speak the entire time, sounding like a crazy escaped huge black Doberman pet, on a race to get away from her master.

  She took off, running to Stubbs Road, past White Jade and Taipan Court, took a right at Mount Nicolson Road, then left the road, running across the open space and private yards, to Aberdeen Country Park. At about half way into the park, she took a quick left towards the tunnel, the Aberdeen Tunnel of course. It was her rendezvous point. He’d be there waiting.